Futile
by Amarielah
Summary: Resisting the innate vulnerabilities of the Saiyan race is what elevated the elites of Saiyan society above the rest. Vegeta, an elite among elites, was sure that he'd mastered these less desirable sides of his nature. Until the aftermath of Namek, that is. And that Damn Woman.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball or any of its related properties.

Notes: The standard plot of the Three Year Fic has Bulma being the one who's smitten, but I never got that impression from canon. Rather, I think it's biologically probable that Saiyans developed more intense monogamous instincts than humans due to their greater energy needs (canonically, they eat much more than humans), and a period of helpless infancy that's comparable to that of humans. This would require lower fertility from females and higher parental investment from males - hence, pair bonding. So this fic basically explores the opposite extreme of that scenario, along with the broader implications of saiyan sexuality re: their highly regimented militaristic culture. This fic take Dragon Ball Minus as canon.

Hopefully it's not too exposition-heavy, but I did indulge myself. :) (This is a slightly censored version of the fic. For the full version, check out my AO3 account.)

 **Futile**

 **Chapter One**

In hindsight, perhaps he shouldn't have agreed to live with the Woman.

Vegeta's interactions with females had been severely limited over the course of his life. Frieza rarely enlisted them into his ranks, preferring to use the enticement of conquered females to secure greater loyalty from his men - lustful weaklings that they were. Those that Vegeta had encountered, furthermore, were usually from species so different from his own that he could scarcely identify them as females without being told.

Nappa had often spoken longingly of Saiyan females: of their strength, their intelligence, their callous, brutal tenacity. Vegeta's own recollections of them were hazy at best. He'd never even met the female who had provided the egg with which he had been conceived. Nappa had also warned him against fraternization with alien females, saying that it would distract him from his path as a warrior. It was one of the few pieces of advice Vegeta had ever bothered to heed from the oaf - more out of happenstance than any kind respect for the man. Vegeta had simply never been tempted.

He still wasn't tempted.

But it really wasn't any wonder why the Woman was...distracting.

She was smiling at him, just then, amusement dancing in her ridiculous too-light eyes. Human eyes, all too easily damaged by ultra-violet radiation. She would've gone blind on planet Vegeta.

"And what exactly is so damn amusing?" he snapped, unable to keep the irritation from his voice even though he knew it only encouraged these little stunts.

Indeed, her smile widened. "Oh nothing," she replied.

Vegeta closed the refrigeration device more forcefully than necessary, a wrapped unit of meat pressed between two slices of processed grain clutched in his hand. At least humans had the same preference for cooked foods that Saiyans did.

He scowled, tempted to point out the obvious lie, but decided not to waste his breath. The fact that he'd spoken to her without prompting when he could have been eating was already too much energy wasted.

Kakarrot was still alive, after all - flaunting his superiority on some distant planet - while Vegeta took the time to indulge the inscrutable whims of some insufferable human female.

He'd killed allies for less.

"Cat got your tongue?" she said, raising a slender brow.

He didn't know what a cat was, but he knew a taunt when he heard it. "You're lucky you're useful, woman."

The amusement left her eyes. "You're lucky I'm so generous and forgiving." She crossed her arms, glaring at him. "You'd better bear that in mind before you threaten me, Vegeta."

Satisfied with having rattled her composure, he simply smirked before exiting the dining area.

* * *

It was the smell that had brought him there.

Sweet and spicy and tangy, and not unlike a species of carnivorous flower that Vegeta had once encountered on a mission that had left him paralyzed for days. It made his head swim pleasantly.

Not even an elite Saiyan warrior could help giving into its pull.

And now here he was, watching the weakling human putting on an utterly lewd display with the Damn Woman.

Vegeta was well used to the vulgarity of lesser species. He'd witnessed more than his fair share while working under Frieza, even trying to avoid it.

But there was something about this human depravity that left him feeling particularly unsettled. They looked so much like Saiyans, after all, and yet acted so...wantonly. Perfectly useful bloodlust channeled into lust for far less noble endeavors.

The weakling had a hand between the Woman's legs, his mouth suckling at the lobe of her ear. She was making little gasping noises and moans, spreading her legs wider. Please, he heard her murmur. Don't tease me, Yamcha.

The smell, he realized, was caused by her...arousal. She was getting sexually excited by a man who had been killed by a single Saibaman.

Neither of them noticed his presence, or weren't deterred if they did. The latter possibility made disgust twist deep down in his gut. Utterly shameless.

He really should just destroy this damned planet and be done with it.

As the smell grew stronger still, it took entirely too much effort for him to jerk his gaze away. And, when he finally returned to the gravity chamber, he turned the settings up higher than he ever had before.

* * *

He wasn't sure why he asked her the question. Her motivations and feelings were meaningless to him.

And yet, it had slipped out, earning him a quizzical look and a raised eyebrow.

He supposed he just wanted her to make a bit more sense.

"Why did I invite you to stay?" She tapped her chin. "I guess you can say that I find you interesting. I mean, it's not every day that you get to meet an evil alien who can blow up planets."

That actually made the corners of his lips twitch up. "You were terrified of me on Namek," he pointed out. He'd only been peripherally aware of her presence then, but he could certainly recall the fear in her eyes when she'd looked at him.

He'd found it...pleasant.

She smiled crookedly. "Oh, without a doubt. I even had a nightmare about you coming to kill me for helping Gohan and Krillin take that one dragon ball."

The hint of a smile on his own face grew wider. "It was a nightmare grounded in realism." He pressed, "So, why the change of heart? I haven't had one."

A shrug. "I'm not sure. A hunch, maybe?"

Vegeta scoffed. "I killed your lover with a Saibaman, and I'll destroy this planet the moment it ceases to be of use to me. Are all human women so suicidally forgiving?"

Bulma shrugged again. "You know, Piccolo killled Krillin once." She frowned slightly. "Well, it was actually Piccolo's father, but they're technically the same person. And the current Piccolo only stopped trying to take over the world after Radditz showed up." Her smile returned. "Point being, it's silly to hold grudges when you have Son Goku for a friend. Especially when the dragon balls exist." Her smile turned sly. "But don't get me wrong, Vegeta: If you hurt anyone I care about again, I'll make sure you regret it."

"Oh really?" he said, smirking. "And how precisely would you accomplish that?"

She walked up to him, then, still smiling that devious smile, and leaned in very close. It took a considerable amount of control not to flinch away. "That's a secret," she whispered, breath fanning out against his ear and the scent of her - a muted version of her intoxicating arousal - wafting around him.

She kissed his cheek, then, her lips achingly soft, before finally pulled back. Her smile was now sweet, but there was still a hint of something in her eyes. Promise, more than threat.

She walked past him without another word.

* * *

By the time Vegeta had been conceived, Saiyans had long since abandoned the primitive reproductive behavior of their ancestors.

It had been Frieza's innovation, in fact: grow infants in incubation pods, or place them in one after birth. This served the duel purpose of allowing the parents to keep fighting when the child was too helpless to care for itself, while also discouraging the ties of blood that lay at the heart of most ancient Saiyan conflicts. Planet Sadal had been destroyed because of a blood feud gone too far. Loyalty to kin had held Saiyans back for millennia.

Indeed, Vegeta had only met his own father for the first time at the age of three. And even then, he had found himself drawn to the man. It had not taken long for the word 'papa' to feel natural on his tongue.

It was a display of weakness that still brought him shame when he thought of it.

Even those rare lower-class Saiyans who were conceived the traditional way didn't meet their parents for years. Many, like Kakarrot, never met their parents at all - dispatched off-world before their weakness could tempt their parents into coddling them. This had also been the fate of Vegeta's own weakling of a brother.

For all that Vegeta despised the late tyrant, he couldn't fault his logic in this regard. Saiyans had more potential as warriors than any other species. To be saddled with pointless attachments driven by obsolete reproductive methods only hampered that potential.

So yes, Vegeta recognized what was happening to him. But, as a Saiyan elite, he knew he could resist.

Certainly, he knew he could just kill the Damn Woman, if she proved to be too troublesome.

At the moment, however, the danger she posed was outweighed by her usefulness. Nobody else on this godsforsaken mudball could provide him such excellent equipment to train with. Not even her father. In truth, he wasn't sure that there were many in the entire cosmos that rivaled the Woman in terms of sheer intellect.

For now, he would allow her to live.

* * *

He managed to resist it for a very long time, all things considered.

When he'd caught the scent of her excitement, but knew the weakling wasn't present.

When he'd been lying in the infirmary, drugged, frustrated and in pain, and she'd been sleeping at the desk by his bedside, the smell of her permeating the entire room.

When she drew him into one of their verbal sparring matches, all sharp, acerbic wit and relentless challenge.

Every time, he'd managed to keep his distance.

But when she came to him, pressing her soft, soft lips against his own, slipping her tongue into his mouth, his elite willpower failed him.

His sense of time had left him, then, elongating certain moments while rendering others immaterial. One moment, she was pulling him to her sleeping chamber. The next, his face was buried between her legs, where that glorious scent was strongest. He shuddered when he pulled away the fabric to finally taste her there, the movements of his mouth and tongue informed by the growing intensity of her flavor.

"You're not a good man," she purred, hands buried in his hair. "But you can be such a good boy, can't you?"

The praise made him shudder again, and his hands shook as he used them to spread her thighs wider apart.

Then he filled her, over and over, as she moaned his name.

Later, when it it was done, he awoke to find himself alone in her bed. The scent of her lingered everywhere, but it did nothing to ease the sense that something was deeply wrong. That she should be there, beside him.

He didn't manage to shake the feeling off as he stumbled to the gravity chamber.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball or any of its related properties.

 **Futile**

 **Chapter Two**

She was avoiding him.

It shouldn't have bothered him. After all, he could get more training done without her constant nagging and antagonism.

But it did bother him. It bothered him enough that it was interfering with his focus.

So he decided to catch her off guard while she was working in her lab, knowing that she wouldn't expect him.

She was welding when he entered, hair pulled back haphazardly and large dark glasses obscuring the top half of her face.

"Woman."

"What is it?" she asked. "I'm busy."

He bristled at her dismissive tone. "I'm growing tired of your insolence," he said. It wasn't really an answer.

She put the blowtorch down on the metal platform and pushed her protective glasses up on her head. "I've been a paragon of cooperation, Vegeta. You can't still be sulking about the fact that I try to stop you from killing yourself with training."

He stalked towards her, backing her up against the wall. This close, her smell enveloped him: the heady musk of her sweat cutting through the cloying sweetness of her various hygiene products. His head began to swim; he ached to taste her.

"Vegeta..." Her voice was low and husky.

He liked it when she said his name like that, so he leaned forward to nuzzle into her neck. "I can be forgiving," he said, hand curling around her hip, "given the right incentives."

She shivered, and he could smell her arousal spike. "Vegeta," she said again, squirming, "you need to stop."

Reluctantly, he pulled back, though his hand remained at her hip. "You want this as much as I do," he said.

"Maybe." She reached down and pried his hand away. He let her. "But we both know that it doesn't have the same meaning for me."

The words managed to cut through the growing haze of desire. Sneering, he said, "You're allowing that ego of yours to make you see things that aren't there."

She crossed her arms. "Oh yeah? What were Saiyan mating practices, exactly?"

He crossed his arms as well, if only to keep himself from reaching out to touch her. "We didn't have any. Children were grown in incubators." He didn't think it relevant to mention low-class deviants like Bardock. Radditz had at least been made the proper way, despite his parents' proclivities. It was really no wonder that Kakarrot had turned out so strange.

Her eyes narrowed. "And why did you do that? What was so bad about the way your species naturally evolved to make children?"

His stomach dropped.

The expression on her face wasn't quite triumphant, but it came close. She walked over to a filing cabinet and took out a folder. "I took a blood sample while you were unconscious in the infirmary," she said. "I needed to know more about Saiyan biology in order to better accommodate future treatment." She gazed down at it, mouth thinning. "I didn't have it analyzed right away, though. I was too distracted."

"You dare-"

"Yeah," she said, cutting him off. "I do." She let the folder flop down on the desk, displaying the contents.

Vegeta glared down at the chart, saying nothing.

"Your cortisol levels are off the charts," she said, "but I was expecting that. It's a stress hormone, and you're wound so tight that a gust of wind could set you off.

"High testosterone was a given, of course," she continued. "You're hyper-aggressive and crave dominance. But it's the levels of oxytocin and vasopressin that caught my eye." She quirked a brow. "If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought you were taking some kind of drug."

Frustrated, he snapped, "Get to the point, woman."

"Oxytocin facilitates trust, affection, and a desire for closeness. And, in males, vasopressin leads to the formation of partner preference and even pair bonding. But I don't think any organism on Earth produces either on this scale."

Damn it all. She knew.

Her expression became disgustingly soft, and he wanted desperately to wipe it off her face. Preferably by shoving his head between her legs. "This sample came from before we slept together. If I'd have known..."

He scowled, hating the way his stomach twisted. He wasn't supposed to be weak like this. "You would have spared me?" he spat. "How compassionate."

She sighed, her arms dropping to her sides. "I always thought it was just a Goku thing, because of how naive he was when he got married. But I guess it's actually a Saiyan thing."

He wanted to leave. The fact that he shared this deficiency with Kakarrot just compounded his shame. Was she taunting him on purpose?

Rubbing the back of her neck, she said, "It's not that I don't like you, Vegeta. You're my hot, evil friend from space." She smiled weakly. "But...you're not exactly boyfriend material. Let alone anything more serious than that." Her hand moved to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "On account of being evil, I mean."

"You think I desire such a relationship with you?" he said. "Are all humans so prone to delusions of grandeur?"

She shook her head. "That's just it: I don't think it's what you want. I think what you really want is to train without any distractions."

She was right, but he didn't want to say so.

"And I'm a distraction, aren't I? Not because you actually like me, but because your brain is flooding you with hormones."

"This is only a temporary setback," he insisted.

"...Was it your first time?" she asked, looking at him like he was some kind of pitiful child.

He stormed out of the lab.

* * *

He spent the next week focusing on his training. The Damn Woman had installed safety restrictions on the gravity chamber, so he couldn't push his body as hard as he had before. But he could still feel himself getting stronger every day.

Still not strong enough to transform into a legend, though.

When the chamber broke, he finally decided to track her down. As usual, she was working in her lab.

"The gravity chamber is broken. Fix it."

She didn't look away from her computer screen, keys clacking obnoxiously beneath her dainty, manicured hands. "Give me a couple of hours. I want to finish my train of thought."

Today, he didn't have the patience for her insolence, so he fired a small ki blast into the tangle of power cords. The screen went black.

When she stood up and whirled to face him, she was was shaking with rage. "Congratulations," she growled, eyes flashing. "You just guaranteed that I won't fix it today at all. Happy?"

He couldn't help but grin. A few hours of lost training was almost worth the look on her face. No pity there, now. "I have other ways of securing your cooperation, you know." He took a step toward her. "I don't think you'd like them."

She rolled her eyes. "I'll have to go out and collect the dragon balls if you start killing random people. And I really don't feel like doing that, so, if you put me in that position, I'll make sure your precious gravity chamber never works again."

The grin faded, and he huffed out a breath. "It won't even take you long. I'm training to defeat the cyborgs threatening this planet, so you should show some gratitude."

"The cyborgs wouldn't be an issue if you and the others had let me take care of them the easy way." She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "But this isn't even about the damn gravity chamber, is it? If it was, you'd be bothering my father. This is the evil Saiyan version of pulling my pigtails."

"I don't know what pigtails are, so I have no reason to pull them." He regretted the words the minute they left his mouth.

Her hand dropped away from her face. "I mean, you're trying to torment me because I've rejected you, and you have the emotional maturity of a toddler." There was that pity again, damn it all. "The feelings aren't going away, are they?"

"Stop looking at me like I'm an injured animal!" he yelled, rage welling up in his gut.

She bit her bottom lip. "Vegeta...what would you do if I slept with another man?"

He was too angry to bother lying. "I'd kill him, slowly, and dump his corpse at the foot of your bed."

"Right," she said flatly, then walked to the door. When she opened it, she turned to him. "Are you coming?"

His rage guttered out, and he blinked.

She let out a frustrated breath. "Look, Vegeta - abstaining obviously isn't making a difference, I have needs, and I don't feel like waking up to a mangled corpse." She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Do you need a written invitation, or what?"

He was still somewhat dazed as he followed her to her sleeping chamber.

"Just to be clear," she said, as she let her overalls fall to the floor, "I haven't forgotten the stunt you pulled, and I'm still not gonna fix the gravity chamber today."

In answer, he pushed her onto the bed and buried his face between her legs, breathing in her scent greedily.

She squirmed. "I need to have a shower."

"Don't you dare," he growled, ripping her underwear away. He nosed at her opening, warmth seeping like syrup into his muscles.

"You're so weird," she moaned. Vegeta had latched his mouth onto the little nub above her entrance. He remembered it only fuzzily from the last time, but he was warrior enough to know a weak spot when he saw it.

His perception fogged up as the scent of her arousal grew with each pass of his tongue, and he hummed approvingly when she slid her hands into his hair, pulling at it with each spike of excitement. She was soaking wet when he slid two fingers into her, her inner muscles twitching against them eagerly.

"Good boy," she murmured as she reached the precipice. "Oh yes, right there. Such a good boy."

The words sent him over the edge with her.

He only managed to speak about a minute later, and it took genuine effort to inject irritation into his voice. "I'm not your pet," he told her.

"No," she agreed, propping herself up on her elbows in order to gaze down at him through half-lidded eyes. "But a little positive reinforcement never hurt anybody."

He glared at her, even as he brought his fingers to his mouth to lick away the wetness she'd left on them. The taste sent a fresh wave of warmth through his body, pooling between his legs.

The smile she gave him was a soft, fond expression. "Do you want me to stop?"

His glare deepened into a frown as he felt his chest tighten. "No," he admitted grudgingly, cheeks growing warm.

"It bothers you that you like it," she observed.

Of course it did. Did she not know how thoroughly she was debasing him? "It must please you to have royalty kneeling before you, lapping up your condescending praise like some kind of wanton beggar," he said, cheeks flaring even warmer, heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"Sure," she said, quirking a brow. "But mostly just the 'wanton' part."

Moving faster than she could follow, he pinned her on her back and kissed her. He knew his tongue was probably clumsy compared to hers, but she still gave him a moan of pleased surprise.

Reaching down, he guided himself inside of her, shuddering bodily once he was buried to the hilt. He pulled back from the kiss so he could place his mouth by her ear. "So wet for me," he breathed, pulling out almost completely only to thrust forcefully back inside. "Such a good girl."

She moaned very loudly.

Well, she certainly wasn't a hypocrite. That was his last coherent thought as he lost himself in the rhythm of their bodies.

He moaned her name when he came.

Afterward, he buried his face in a pillow to hide his burning cheeks. Embarrassment churned in his gut, even as his body thrummed with contented lassitude.

"Well," she said. "At least now I know that you don't think my name is actually 'woman'." A tired chuckle. "Because that would've been awkward as hell." He heard her roll off of the bed, joints cracking as she stretched. "You're really good at this for a beginner, Vegeta. I guess those Saiyan battle instincts are good for more than just fighting."

He snorted into the pillow, but didn't say anything.

"Anyway, I'm gonna have that shower now. You can stay here if you need to sleep off how much I blew your mind."

True to her word, he heard the shower running a few moments later.

As he drifted asleep, he wondered fuzzily why she couldn't have stayed beside him for just a few more minutes.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball or any of its related properties.

 **Futile**

 **Chapter Three**

It became something of a routine, this thing between them.

Vegeta would train, the Woman would work. Sometimes, they'd share a meal, often with one or both of her parents present. Those times weren't a sentimental arrangement so much as one of convenience, but Vegeta couldn't say he disliked them. Hearing the Woman and her father discussing some project or other, or her mother babbling about something she was working on in the garden. He only actually paid attention to the details when the topic was the gravity chamber or the Androids, but the chatter didn't annoy him.

The same couldn't be said of the times he'd shared meals with Nappa and Raditz.

And then, when his need grew too strong to overcome with training, or when she grew too amorous to leave him in peace, he would take her to bed.

It was always on a bed, in fact, with the door carefully locked. If he was going to indulge in this vulgar weakness, he was going to be civilized about it.

He discovered that there were more parts of her to enjoy than just her mouth and the apex of her legs: breasts that were delightfully soft beneath his hands; nipples that made her squirm and moan when he sucked them; so much smooth, fragrant skin to lick and kiss and caress.

And, incredibly, she seemed to be just as fascinated with his body.

He even found that, after one too many slips, he rather liked to call her by her name.

Overall, the routine pleased him.

But he couldn't quite shake the the knowledge that, should circumstances allow for it, she would happily be doing this with another man. The Weakling, perhaps, despite her insistence that they had 'broken up' - whatever the hell that meant.

Vegeta was willing, competent, and readily available. She also knew what he'd do to any other man that had the audacity to touch her. Much like the shared meals, her bedding of him was a matter of convenience.

It was infuriating.

And the more he touched her, kissed her, made her moan his name, the more his fury grew.

He decided that he needed to remind her of who has was - of what he was. The Prince of All Saiyans, and not some expendable plaything.

So one night, after she had deemed their encounter over, he snagged his arms around her and pulled her bodily against him. She stiffened for a moment, but relaxed with a drawn-out release of breath. She knew it was futile to try and break his hold.

"I know why you no longer fear me," he said, voice low, and kissed the back of her neck.

"Do you, now." Her voice was bored, but he was fairly sure it was a bluff.

He hummed, trying to discern the true scent of her hair beneath the smell of her shampoo. "You know Kakarrot is stronger than me, and you know I'm currently preoccupied with my desire to surpass him."

She snorted.

He smirked. "But I will surpass him, Bulma. And when I do, this planet is forfeit. But you..." He kissed the shell of her ear. "You, I'll spare." Then, she would see how foolish it had been to underestimate him. To rely on Kakarrot and all of her weakling companions.

She would finally understand the honor it was when he prostrated himself before her.

A sigh. "Got it," she said, still with that affected boredom. "If you're done with asserting your dominance, I have work to do."

He didn't want her to leave, but he released her in any case. He'd made his point.

* * *

Later, when she brushed off his touches with cold indifference, it occurred to him that he might have made his point a little too well.

She became as attached to her lab as he was to the gravity chamber, often foregoing sleep entirely. He knew, because he could hear her banging around at all hours, then smell the stale remnants of coffee on her the next morning. She took to wearing only coveralls and leaving her hair in a messy bun - truly alarming, given how fastidious she usually was about her appearance.

Her mother, usually so placid, even commented on it. Bulma had smiled a very fake smile in response and told her mother not to worry. The fact that he'd even taken note of the exchange was absurd.

Once more, he found himself unable to focus properly during training.

It all came to a boiling point when he was hovering just behind the closed door of the lab, debating whether or not to go inside, and a shriek of rage came from the other side.

Heart pounding, he rushed inside, only to see the Woman with a device smashed at her feet, her face contorted with rage. "Fucking useless!"

"Bulma," he said,

Her hands were curled into shaking fists by her sides, and her lips curled into a sneer when she caught sight of him. "What the fuck do you want?" she asked, disdain heavy and bitter in her voice.

His lips thinned as he crossed his arms over his chest. "The racket you're making is annoying."

"If it bothers you so much, feel free to get the fuck out of my house." Her glare intensified. "Actually, how about you start by getting the fuck out of my lab."

The rage started to crawl up the back of his throat, comforting in its familiarity, until he caught a whiff of her scent. It was...wrong. Tinged with a sour note that made his belly tighten with sudden anxiety.

He took in the rest of her: the dark bruises under her eyes, and the way her clothes seemed to hang off of her previously robust body.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked, unable to keep a frown from drawing his brows together.

She seemed momentarily taken-aback by the question. Then, she began to laugh. Softly, at first. But soon, she was downright cackling, sinking to her knees as her body shook with uncontrollable, hysterical mirth.

The laughter turned into sobs.

Vegeta stared.

After a minute or so, the sobbing eased, though her body still trembled. It was as if she had caught a deathly chill.

At a loss, Vegeta simply allowed his body to run on autopilot, walking up to her and stooping down to gather her into his arms. Never a heavy woman to start with, it felt like he was carrying air.

"Let me down," she said, though the words lacked any of their previous bite.

He ignored her as his legs carried the both of them to her sleeping chamber, where he laid her down on the bed. Silence stretched between them for a long while. Vegeta gathered his racing thoughts.

"What have you been trying to build?" he asked at last.

She gazed blankly up at the ceiling. "Antimatter gun," she said, without hesitation. "It would definitely kill you, but would probably create a singularity in the process. Completely useless."

"You wish to kill me that badly?"

She blinked slowly, as if in a daze. "No," she said. "But if you kill Goku, I can't rely on anyone else to defend this planet. Nobody but him is strong enough to stop you." She closed her eyes, and a few tears slipped down her cheeks. "I don't want you to die at all, Vegeta. Why do you have to be so fucking petty?"

His hands curled into fists. "...If I swear not to destroy this pathetic planet, will you stop this insanity?"

She opened her eyes to look at him. "Swear it on your pride as a Saiyan warrior," she said.

After a moment of hesitation, he said, "I swear, on my pride as the Prince of all Saiyans, that I will not destroy the planet Earth."

She nodded once in acknowledgment before her eyelids began to droop.

He left once she was asleep.

* * *

An antimatter gun that would create black holes. That's what she'd been trying to build. Actually, what she'd succeeded in building, then scrapped when the matter of the aforementioned black holes came to her attention..An utterly devastating weapon that Frieza would've committed genocide many times over to acquire.

It had taken her less than a month.

And she had done in order to kill him, should the need arise.

The knowledge of her sheer brilliance, and the danger she posed because of it, made him ache with want for her.

The knowledge that she'd dedicated that brilliance to ending his existence brought forth more...complex emotions.

He didn't think he could actually bring himself to kill her anymore. Perhaps he should reconsider that wish for immortality?

An alarm blared from the console of the ship, interrupting his wandering thoughts, and the pressure of increased gravity lifted from his aching muscles. With a snarl of frustration, he looked to the screen to see a warning flashing: DANGER OF OVERLOAD.

He landed, staring at the message, and debated whether or not to bother the Woman with fixing it. They'd been avoiding each other since their confrontation in the lab.

She made the decision for him, however, showing up without prompting, toolkit in hand.

She looked better. More importantly, she smelled better.

Gods, her scent.

The smart move would've been to continue training outside, leaving her to her work. But Vegeta felt the intense desire to stay, allowing her scent to waft over him enticingly. For all the need it stirred within him, he found it oddly relaxing.

Perhaps that was what drove him to speak to her when she was done. "You look marginally less awful," he observed.

She had slid out from under the console, getting to her feet, and was now dusting off her coveralls. "You sure know how to charm a girl," she said dryly.

"It wasn't my charm that brought you here so quickly." He smirked. "I think you've finally learned to fear me again."

"Of course I'm afraid of you!" she snapped. "I've never stopped being afraid of you, Vegeta. Only a complete moron wouldn't be!" She crossed her arms - the gesture more defensive than haughty. "I know killing me must've been one of the first things on your mind once you realized your...attraction."

She wasn't wrong. But she was also a hypocrite. "As if you weren't building a device with the express purpose of killing me!"

"Only after you threatened to kill everyone and everything I love!" Her cheeks had gone ruddy with emotion. "It's not like I want to kill you!"

"And I don't want to kill you!" Vegeta bellowed, before he could stop himself. He'd only meant to needle her a little; how had it come to this?

Her tone started to verge on hysterical. "Well, what do you want?!"

"YOU!"

She stared at him.

His stomach dropped to his feet.

"You already have me," she said, more calmly.

He swallowed past a sudden dryness in his mouth, and found himself unable to meet her gaze. Utterly pathetic. "I am a convenient outlet for your lust, but you are not mine." Not like he was hers.

"No," she agreed softly, that familiar pity crossing over her face. "I'm not." She squatted down and gathered all her tools into the kit, closing it with a snap that seemed unnecessarily loud. When she reached the ship's exit, she paused and said, "Good luck with your training. Vegeta. Don't bother my father; I'll be in the lab if you need anything else."

With that, she left, and he returned to his training.

In hindsight, he should've insisted that she remove the safety protocols.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball or any of its related properties.

 **Futile**

 **Chapter Four**

Vegeta was done.

It would've been one thing, to have these impulses buried under a proper training regimen. To know that he was on his way to ascending despite the shortcomings of his own biology. But it was another thing entirely that he'd actually admitted any of it to her face.

The Damn Woman had a way of addling his wits. And, even more than his strength, Vegeta knew he needed his wits in order to survive.

They avoided each other.

It was...challenging, but he managed to weather it by increasing the intensity of his training. It had taken only minimal convincing to get Dr Briefs to remove the safety protocols on the gravity machine. So, when the ache for her started, he would simply turn up the gravity setting and get lost in the pain of pushing his body beyond its limits.

It wasn't pleasant, but it was better than being out of control.

His transformation was now within his grasp; he could _feel_ it. At last, he would surpass Kakarrot and the brat with the sword. He would stand above them, dominate them - as was his birthright.

He would transcend all weakness and become a Legend.

* * *

"You can do what you like," he said, after several days of working up the nerve. There was a voice in his mind screaming at him to stop. That she was _his_ , always _his_ , and any man who so much as looked at her with lust in his gaze would be slowly eviscerated.

He stoically ignored it.

"Excuse me?" she asked, looking up from her steaming mug of coffee.

He doubted she'd misheard him, but he still clarified. "Do what you like: it doesn't mean a thing to me." He crossed his arms. "My madness was temporary."

She rolled her eyes. "I hate to break this to you, Vegeta, but I never actually needed your permission for that."

He barely managed to restrain the flare of anger - and desire - at her flagrant display of defiance. Instead of giving her the satisfaction of a reply. he let out a noise of disdain and left the dining room.

The lie would become truth soon enough.

* * *

For over two months, he succeeded in staying away from her. It had perhaps left him...overconfident.

He was in the gravity chamber when it hit him: the barest hint Bulma's scent. But it was...different, somehow. Sweeter. Just the tiniest whiff left his body buzzing, every nerve calling out for _more_.

Perhaps it had been the extended period of deprivation. Whatever the case, his attempts to resist proved fruitless.

She was sitting at the dining table when he tracked her down, nursing one of the pungent alcoholic beverages that she seemed entirely too fond of. The smell was unpleasant, but it did nothing to hide the intoxicating aroma that lay beneath it.

"Vegeta," she said. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, and her next words had a definite slur. "It's like clockwork."

His hands clenched in and out of fists as he fought to keep the last few meters of distance between them. She smiled lazily and put the glass down, some of its contents sloshing onto the table's surface. Then she was on her feet, walking towards him with swaying hips.

She flung her arms around his neck when she reached him, leaning forward to sniff at his shoulder. "You smell gooood," she drawled, licking a wet stripe up the exposed skin of his neck.

He shuddered, indignation warring with burning arousal. "Perverted woman," he growled, his hands finding purchase on her delightfully soft backside.

"Damn right," she said, and he could feel her smirk against his skin.

It was a great challenge not to take her right there, but he still had enough presence of mind to preserve at least that much of his dignity. He swept her into his arms and flew them both to her quarters, the door slamming shut behind them with a pulse of his energy.

"My Prince Charming," she said, grinning, once he'd thrown her down on the bed.

"You're talking too much," he said.

Her grin grew devious. "So shut me up, if you can."

He accepted the challenge, kissing her hard. Her moan in response was much less objectionable than her constant, infuriating yammering.

Normally, he would've already had his mouth between her legs, but he was too desperate for that this time. He pulled away with great reluctance in order to take off his training suit - for once, he found its durability infuriating - and returned to rid her of her ridiculous Earthling clothes.

And then he was inside her.

"Wet," he noted, reverently. Under normal circumstances, he would've found his inability to form coherent sentences humiliating. But with her warmth and scent enveloping him, he didn't even notice the slip.

"Wanted you," she moaned. "Fuck. _Fuck_." Her nails scratched down his back, and her warmth grew even slicker. Tighter. " _Vegeta_."

His eyes screwed shut as he went over the edge.

Somewhat more coherent, he withdrew from her and said, "On you knees."

She licked her swollen lips, eyeing him, and he was sure for a moment that she was going to argue. But instead, she rolled over and pushed herself onto her knees.

"Come on," she said, her voice betraying her own desperation. "Want you to fill me up again."

It was a reminder that she would only ever obey him on her own terms. With a growl, he buried himself inside her once more.

It wasn't long at all before she was moaning, shuddering. He followed, losing himself in the heat of her.

He collapsed onto a pillow once they were done, his body still thrumming with the aftershocks. She lay down as well, her back facing him. That annoyed him for some reason, so he snagged an arm around her middle and pulled her flush against him. She smelled almost too good to bear.

He snaked a hand between her legs, dipping two fingers inside her to feel the wetness there, and growled in approval.

She gasped when he licked her neck, moving his fingers up to exploit that ever-so-convenient weak point. "Oh _yes_ ," she breathed, as he set to work on a steady, unrelenting rhythm. It was only a few short minutes before she hit her peak once more.

And then she started snoring.

With a sound of annoyance, Vegeta pushed her away, but she just flopped bonelessly onto her stomach, nuzzling into a nearby pillow.

"Damn woman," he said, glaring down at her, and resisted a sudden impulse to pull the covers over her naked body. It wasn't his problem that humans were so damn fragile, after all.

There was another, even stronger impulse to pull her back into his arms and fall asleep, which took more effort to resist. Instead, he got off the bed and went to take a shower.

He was at once desperate and reluctant to wash the smell of her off of his skin.

* * *

Once he was back in the ship, Vegeta knew what he needed to do.

It was a risk to leave the planet; he had no hope of repairing the gravity machine if it broke down while he was off-world. But remaining on Earth posed a risk as well.

The Damn Woman was holding him back.

He checked on the ship's provisions in the storage compartment, and was surprised to find it fully stocked with capsules. Food, water, medical supplies, spare parts, spare clothes - there were enough of all to last him months. Perhaps even _years_. Hell, there were even senzu beans.

Growing suspicious, he went to the console and pulled up the protocol for imputing coordinates. Sure enough, a destination was already in the system, and there was a text box floating in the bottom corner:

 **Good luck, Vegeta! I'm rooting for you! =^o^=**

 **\- Bulma**

His hands clenched into fists, and it took a mighty effort not to blast the screen into oblivion.

She humiliated him at every turn, rubbing in her superior intelligence with relish. She'd known what he'd choose long before he'd even made the choice. Like a specimen in her laboratory, running through a maze of her own devising,

He almost wanted to stay, just to spite her. But that would just be handing her a victory of a different sort. Whether he stayed or left, she always had the upper hand.

By morning, the ship was gone.


End file.
